It’s a heady feeling and I try not to let my mind get too carried away. I still have a gig to play and people to entertain. Speaking of, everyone seems to be having a great time and it makes me happy to know I’ve helped create this atmosphere, if only a little; it means I’m doing my job. But even more than that, it’s fun. I fucking love what I do, which is why, even when the pay is shit, I continue to follow my passion.
There’s a special high a performer gets when the music they create is enjoyed by others, even on a smaller level like this. I can only imagine what it must feel like to experience the high multi-million-dollar performers out there get, selling out stadiums night after night. I don’t really have those aspirations, personally, but I can certainly appreciate the appeal.
Right now, at this moment, this is enough.
“Dude! I’ve never seen anyone wail on a sax like that before,” a guy with sandy-blond hair says, walking up and clapping me on the shoulder. “And using looper pedals? Genius!”
His enthusiasm is contagious, and I instantly smile, recognizing a fellow musician when I see one. No one else gets this geeked out by looper pedals. “Thanks, man.”
Just as I’m getting ready to ask what he plays, Deacon Landry, Micah’s brother and the creator of the amazing food I ate earlier, walks up and chimes in. “I told you, Tucker, this dude is the real deal!” He laughs, giving me a wink. “Finn, this is my brother-in-law, Tucker Benoit. He used to be a well-known guitarist around these parts back in the day.”
“What the hell, man,” Tucker says, obviously taking offense to Deacon’s ribbing. “I can still play. In fact, I think Finley and I should play together sometime. Whatcha think, Finn?” Tucker asks.
My eyes grow wide at the thought. I love any type of collaboration. “Absolutely,” I tell him, nodding. “I’d be down. Just say when and where.”
Tucker taps my beer with his own, like we’ve just sealed a deal. “Awesome,” he says finishing off his glass. “So, where are you from and how am I just now hearing about you?”
“Originally from Dallas,” I say, nodding as I run a hand through my hair. “But I’ve been down here for about four months. Shep,” I say, pointing over to where he and Maverick are still standing around talking, like two old biddies, but now have Carys and CeCe keeping them company. “He told me I should move down here and give the New Orleans life a shot, so I took him up on it for a change of scenery and better opportunities.”
“You remember CeCe’s husband, Shep,” Deacon says, turning to Tucker who nods his head in acknowledgment, and then back to me. “CeCe is old friends with my wife, Cami, who just happens to be Tucker’s sister.”
I shake my head, amused at how everyone is so connected. “Damn, did I just move into a soap opera?”
Tucker laughs, shaking his head. “It’s a small fucking world. Nola might be a big city, but it functions like a small town where everyone knows everything about everyone else’s business. There’s never a dull moment, that’s for sure.”
Deacon claps my shoulder, tipping up his beer before adding, “Don’t worry about all that, Finn. You keep doing what you’re doing and you’ll be just fine.” His eyes trail off across the room and I watch as his entire face lights up. “Oh, speaking of, there’s my beautiful wife.” Stepping out of our circle, he calls out, “Cami, love, come and meet Finley.”
I watch as a petite, blonde woman walks our way, smiling and waving at various people until she stops and tucks herself into Deacon’s side. He immediately kisses the top of her head before introducing us properly.
“This is Finley,” he says, nothing but love for the woman at his side as he gazes down at her. “Finley, the one and only, Camille Benoit-Landry.”
Quirking an eyebrow, I offer her my hand. It’s obvious how much Deacon adores his wife, but there’s something else there too—pride… awe.
“Nice to meet you, Finley,” she finally says, giving her husband a slight eye roll. When she smiles at me, I can see the resemblance between her and Tucker but there’s something else familiar about her. “I’m sorry I missed your set; this baby is draining all my energy lately. Will you be playing again?” She rubs her belly, and it’s then I notice the quite pronounced basketball under her dress.
“No worries,” I say with a smile. “I’ll start my second set soon, and I’m taking requests. Would you like to sit down? I’m sure I can find you a chair.”
“Aren’t you a sweet potato?” she gushes. “Thank you, but I’m fine. I just got out of the car, so I need to stretch my legs a bit. I’ll be sitting soon enough.”
Deacon gives her a stern look. “You didn’t drive, did you? I thought the new girl was going to bring you?”
Cami looks at me and rolls her eyes again, this time not so subtly. “I’m perfectly fine to run my own art gallery, but drive myself at night? Forget it.”
“Well, if I had my way, you wouldn’t be working right now either. Is it so wrong for a man to worry about his wife?” Deacon asks.
Cami looks like she’s about to tell him off, so I interrupt and redirect the conversation. “Did you say you own an art gallery? Here in the Quarter?”
Tucker chuckles as he turns his back to our small group, murmuring under his breath in my direction, “Nice job. You’re gonna fit in perfectly.”
“Yes, I own 303 Royal Street Art Gallery,” Cami says sweetly, the glare she had on Deacon morphing into a smile. “We just recently opened. I’m planning on having a party soon, something low-key. I’ll make sure you’re on the invite list. Oh, you should bring your sax! We’d love for you to play for us, if you’re interested.”
“That’s where I know you from,” I say, hoping I don’t sound like a stalker. “I set up and play on the corner of Royal Street, close to your gallery.”
Her face lights up. “I think I’ve seen you there!”
“I guess that kind of makes us pseudo neighbors,” I say, smiling. “And I’d be happy to play for you.” I’m always up for something out of the ordinary. And just like tonight, you never know who you’ll meet. One opportunity can very well open the door for your next, and so on and so on. That’s pretty much how it’s always been for me.
“Wonderful,” she says, eyes darting around the restaurant. “Let me introduce you to the gallery’s new manager. She’s here somewhere… you know, since she drove me,” she says, taking the opportunity to get a dig in at Deacon while nailing him with a glare.
I’m guessing this is a sore subject around the Benoit-Landry household right now. Their easy banter makes me chuckle.
I watch as Cami continues to scan the crowd behind her before calling out to someone across the restaurant. With all the people mingling and chatting, it’s hard to hear much outside our small group.
“Here she comes,” she says, her smile beaming. “She just flew in this morning and I’ve already put her to work, poor thing. She’s probably already reconsidering taking the job.” Cami reaches for someone, bringing them into the center of our little circle. “Georgette, this is Finley.”